The Cask by Freeman Wills Crofts (feel good novels .txt) 📕

Mr. Felix, which, I may be allowed to say, I fully accept so far as it goes. But I fear you have not told me everything?”

“I have told you everything material.”

“Then I am afraid we are not in agreement as to what is material. At all events, it all goes back to my original question, ‘What is in the cask?’ ”

“Do you not accept my statement that it is money?”

“I accept your statement that you believe it to be money. I do not necessarily accept your authority for that belief.”

“Well,” said Felix, jumping up, “the cask’s in the coach-house and I see there is nothing for it but to go and open it now. I did not want to do so tonight, as I did not want to have all that gold lying loose about the house, but it’s clear nothing else will satisfy you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Felix, I wanted you to make the suggestion. It is, as you say, the only way to settle the matter. I’ll call Sergeant Hastings here as a witness and we’ll go now.”

In silence, Felix got a lantern and led the way. They passed through a backdoor into the yard and paused at the coach-house door.

“Hold the light, will you, while I get the keys.”

Burnley threw a beam on the long running bolt that closed the two halves of the door. A padlock held the handle down on the staple. Felix inserted a key, but at his first touch the lock fell open.

“Why, the thing’s not fastened!” he cried, “and I locked it myself a few hours ago!”

He removed the padlock and withdrew the running bolt, swinging the large door open. Burnley flashed in the lantern.

“Is the cask here?” he said.

“Yes, swinging there from the ceiling,” answered Felix, as he came over from fastening back the door. Then his jaw dropped and he stared fixedly.

“My heavens!” he gasped, in a strangled tone, “it’s gone! The cask’s gone!”

VI The Art of Detection

Astonished as Burnley was himself at this unexpected development, he did not forget to keep a keen watch on Felix. That the latter was genuinely amazed and dumbfounded he could not doubt. Not only was his surprise too obviously real to be questioned, but his anger and annoyance at losing his money were clearly heartfelt.

“I locked it myself. I locked it myself,” he kept on repeating. “It was there at eight o’clock, and who could get at it since then? Why, no one but myself knew about it. How could anyone else have known?”

“That’s what we have to find out,” returned the Inspector. “Come back to the house, Mr. Felix, and let us talk it over. We cannot do anything outside until it gets light.”

“You may not know,” he continued, “that you were followed here with your cask by one of our men, who watched you unloading it in the coach-house. He waited till you left with your friend Martin, a few minutes before nine. He then had to leave to advise me of the matter, but he was back at the house by ten. From ten till after eleven he watched alone, but since then the house has been surrounded by my men, as I rather expected to find a gang instead of a single man. Whoever took the cask must therefore have done so between nine and ten.”

Felix stared at his companion open-mouthed.

“By Jove!” he said. “You amaze me. How in thunder did you get on my track?”

Burnley smiled.

“It is our business to know these things,” he answered, “I knew all about how you got the cask away from the docks also.”

“Well, thank Heaven! I told you the truth.”

“It was the wise thing, Mr. Felix. I was able to check your statements as you went along, and I may say I felt really glad when I heard you were going to be straight. At the same time, sir, you will realise that my orders prevent me being satisfied until I have seen the contents of the cask.”

“You cannot be more anxious to recover it than I am, for I want my money.”

“Naturally,” said Burnley, “but before we discuss the matter excuse me a moment. I want to give my fellows some instructions.”

He went out and called the men together. Sergeant Hastings and Constable Walker he retained, the rest he sent home in the car with instructions to return at eight o’clock in the morning. To Broughton he bade “Good night,” thanking him for his presence and help.

When he re-entered the study Felix made up the fire and drew forward the whisky and cigars.

“Thank you, I don’t mind if I do,” said the detective, sinking back into his chair. “Now, Mr. Felix, let us go over everyone that knew about the cask being there.”

“No one but myself and the carter, I assure you.”

“Yourself, the carter, myself, and my man Walker⁠—four to start with.”

Felix smiled.

“As far as I am concerned,” he said, “I left here, as you appear to know, almost immediately after the arrival of the cask and did not return till after one o’clock. All of that time I was in the company of Dr. William Martin and a number of mutual friends. So I can prove an alibi.”

Burnley smiled also.

“For me,” he said, “I am afraid you will have to take my word. The house was watched by Walker from ten o’clock, and we may take it as quite impossible that anything could have been done after that hour.”

“There remains therefore the carter.”

“There remains therefore the carter, and, as we must neglect no possibilities, I will ask you to give me the address of the cartage firm and any information about the man that you may have.”

“John Lyons and Son, 127 Maddox Street, Lower Beechwood Road, was the contractor. The carter’s name, beyond Watty, I don’t know. He was a rather short, wiry chap, with a dark complexion and small black moustache.”

“And now, Mr. Felix, can you not think of any others who may have known about the cask?”

“There was no one,” replied the other